


A Drop of Cream

by TheOtherSarahJane



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1190553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOtherSarahJane/pseuds/TheOtherSarahJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Ianto never were much for cutesy romantic gifts, but on Valentine's day, Ianto decides it can't hurt to show a little love the way he always does--through coffee. (Gets slightly sad at the end, but not really.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Drop of Cream

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: The alien names in this were loosely based off Japanese words because I'm terrible at making things up.

He hadn’t anticipated doing much for Valentine’s Day.

He and Jack weren’t too big on the couplesy stuff in general, really—they went out, sure, but generally they were both a little too preoccupied with saving the world to stop and pick up a dozen roses. Weevil-hunting was romantic enough for them most nights.

So when February rolled around again, they didn’t give any thought to it aside from a quick conversation to verify that, yes, they were definitely both on the same page in that they really didn’t care much. It was a good excuse for a shag, Jack was quick to point out, and Ianto readily agreed, but beyond that there was no need for any fuss. And then Jack had suggested some interesting uses for a restraining device that had floated in through the Rift a few days ago, and that had been the end of that.

But it seemed like a bit of a shame to have the day pass with nothing to commemorate the occasion, and Ianto had an idea. Every once in a while, when he was in a horrible hurry and couldn’t spare the time to make it himself, he would pick up his coffee from a shop about two blocks down from the Hub—it was the only one in a ten-mile radius that managed to do a satisfactory job; but more importantly, there was a barista there who liked to sometimes make designs in the coffee with the cream. She was a pretty young redhead, and she certainly had a flair for it—generally Ianto preferred to drink the stuff rather than look at it, but he had to appreciate it and tip her extra when she left a little design kind of like a lotus on the top of his drink.

A few days before the 14th, he stopped by the small café and caught the barista’s eye. She came over with a bright smile, and he leaned in close.

“Hi,” he greeted. “Ianto. I come here sometimes, and I see you make those designs in the coffees sometimes. I was, er, hoping you could teach me some of your tricks. If you don’t mind.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Trade secret, love,” she teased.

“I know, I won’t, er, spread it around or anything.” He felt his face redden slightly. “It’s, er, for a gift.”

The barista smiled knowingly. “Gonna give your girl some pretty coffee for Valentine’s Day?” she laughed.

“Something like that,” he smiled, then added more quietly. “He’s not really into gifts, but,” he shrugged. “Good to have something small, right?”

She looked surprised at the male pronoun, but quickly smiled and nodded. “Ah, I see. How sweet! Here, I’ll show you.”

…

After she showed him, Ianto made sure to do some practice runs at home. It was actually pretty easy, if you were careful how you poured everything. Of course, the first three or four times he tried it on his own he ended up overflowing the mug, but eventually he managed to get the amounts right (and switching to a bigger mug helped, too).

Even after he’d gotten it pretty well mastered, he made sure to practice it a few times extra, just to be sure. Really, he knew Jack wouldn’t mind if it was a little skewed (really, he wouldn’t mind if Ianto did nothing at all) and, even if it was perfect, would probably just smile at him, make some quip about it being cute, and then forget about it. When you were centuries old, a creamy shape in your coffee from your office boy fling didn’t stick in your mind. But Ianto liked to be exact about these things. From his tailored suit to his particular taste in coffee to the spotless state he left the Hub in whenever he finished cleaning, Ianto was nothing if not a perfectionist.

And, well, if it was for Jack, why should this be any different?

…

The morning of the 14th, Ianto made sure to grab a bag of the darkest-roast coffee beans he could find—Jack tended to like his coffee strong, and there was no use in giving him a cup of coffee that was pretty to look at but tasted terrible.

He arrived at the Hub as usual, bag of coffee in his coat, greeted everyone who was there—Owen was late, but Tosh, Gwen, and, of course, Jack were all up and working (usually he was there before Gwen and sometimes Tosh, but his detour had been a little out of his way), and he joined them without missing a beat, going straight to make everyone’s coffee just how they liked it. He briefly thought of giving his gift to Jack now, but decided against it—it might be better to wait until they had a little more time alone.

It was a good thing he’d managed to get everyone their coffee in time, because it ended up being a busy day—the Rift was more active than it had been all week, and they got calls left and right. It was mostly small stuff, things that could be handled with one or two people at most, but with three or four calls each before two in the afternoon, they all got a little worn out. 

At about half past four, things had calmed down quite a bit, and Gwen left to get ready for dinner with Rhys. Owen, cynical bastard that he was, stayed until around seven, and when Tosh finished her latest experiment for the night, she headed home too, quietly wishing Jack and Ianto a happy Valentine’s Day on her way out.

Once she was gone, Ianto pulled out the bag of dark roast and got to work. He made sure to get every detail perfect, as he always did; grabbing Jack’s favorite mug, putting in just a little bit of coffee, so as not to overflow it later, carefully pouring the creamer in just so, moving a little side to side to get the pretty full shape, then running a line through the middle to make the point. It was just a simple heart design, but it wasn’t intended to be anything dramatic. Once he was done, he moseyed up to Jack’s office with the mug in hand. 

Jack was poring over a stack of papers, finishing up a call with someone or other, probably to arrange keeping quiet about the mysterious piece of otherworldly equipment they’d had to confiscate. He hung up, then turned to Ianto with a tired but still brilliant smile.

“Red tape,” he commented. “Never can get away from it, can you?”

“Of course not.” Ianto set the mug down on his desk. “You look tired.”

“Ah, you’re a lifesaver.” Jack grabbed the mug and tilted it to take a sip, and for one dreadful moment Ianto thought he might just gulp half of it down right there and ruin his work.

Thankfully, though, Jack paused just before his lips touched the ceramic. He frowned a little, looking at it, then his eyes flicked up to Ianto, who felt sure he was smiling just a little more than he should be.

“I thought you didn’t care about Valentine’s Day,” Jack kept the cup close to his lips, but didn’t drink. 

“I don’t.” Ianto shrugged. “But something small can never hurt, right?”

“No,” Jack replied. His lips quirked up into that charming, sideways little smile of his. “It’s cute,” he said, then, very carefully, took a sip.

Ianto couldn’t help but smile. “Glad you liked it,” he said, and Jack put his mug down and gave him a look—amused, mostly, a little flattered, and maybe even just a little appreciative—that assured him he’d done well.

“Go on, drink the rest,” Ianto told him, noticing Jack was hesitating just a bit to pick the mug up again. “No use staring at it, it’ll get cold.”

Jack gratefully obliged, and the coffee, cream and all, was gone within a few minutes. The two sat quietly for a bit until Jack flipped the folder in front of him shut and moved it to the side.

“Tosh is gone,” Ianto reminded him casually. “And so is Owen.”

“And we know Gwen left early,” Jack finished, a knowing twinkle in his blue eyes. “Alone on Valentine’s day. Just what are we going to do?”

They practically bolted up and around the desk to kiss each other, and within moments they were in a hot, breathless rush, vying to stay locked at the lips while removing as much clothing as possible. Jack held him close until they were moving together, skin against warm skin, breaths heavy and voices tangled in the thick air. 

“Happy Valentine’s day,” Jack panted into Ianto’s ear when they were done. Ianto sighed out a laugh through his exhaustion, and reached for Jack’s hand. He brought his arm around his waist, and Jack didn’t protest. 

“Guess that extra caffeine was good for us,” Jack remarked almost nonchalantly. Ianto smiled, his mind still too foggy to respond properly, and nodded.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Guess so.”

On the floor next to them, the empty mug lay on the floor. It had been knocked down somewhere along the line by a stray limb, the special dark roast and cream heart long ago forgotten.

…

…

Greens and blues flashed in and out of sight. Obohel music blasted into his ears in the seedy bar, staccato frequencies configured for optimal socialization that did nothing to make Jack want to interact with anyone. He wasn’t in that kind of mood tonight.

He seated himself far away from the various dancing humanoids, in a darker corner of the ship that looked out at the very tip of the Seyshih-n Galaxy. A server came to offer him a drink, and he took what it told him was the hottest one. He felt like something warm tonight.

He took it to his lips, but hesitated when he saw something moving at the top. He held it a little farther back and peered into it curiously. On the surface of the drink, a thin layer of glowing spots that looked like glitter danced, arranging into various shapes. They were called Ch-sah, he remembered. Microorganisms that were a specialty of this area. They were harmless to most species including humans, had no taste and no nutritional value whatsoever, but they looked pretty and reacted in a peculiar way to alcohol that caused them to scatter and reassemble, often into interesting shapes, so drinks with them were a favorite for intergalactic tourists looking to get wasted.

The Ch-sah scattered and reformed again, and Jack watched the surface with vague interest. Each shape lasted only a couple of seconds, and he watched a few go by before the small glittering bits happened to come together in what looked suspiciously like a heart.

Jack squinted. It was a little lopsided, and not very neat, but it was definitely a striking resemblance to the old shape that he had seen so often in his time on Earth. Here it had no meaning, of course, but even after four hundred years or so of travelling abroad, Jack still remembered seeing the shape on sidewalks, on posters, in writing…

In his coffee.

Jack blinked. He didn’t usually spend time thinking about the past, but a memory was gently floating through his mind, old and very, very far away.

An old holiday on Earth. Sometime in February, he thought (though he couldn’t remember for sure—it had been a long, long time), in the old Torchwood building, before it was all destroyed. Ianto, bringing him a cup of coffee with a heart drawn on the top in creamer, looking ridiculously proud of himself. Ianto, smiling back at him when he had called it cute and then drank it all down.

And then the mug on the floor, tossed aside until the stray drops left inside emptied onto the floor.

Jack put the drink to his lips, took a long sip, and looked out the window. Earth hadn’t used the Gregorian calendar in many, many years, but maybe it would be sometime around February now, down there, where Cardiff Bay had been. 

He sat there, in the bar, nursing his drink and taking in the hot liquid a little at a time. It was strange, the things your mind kept when you were this old. And he was very, very old. So old that a lot of things he had wanted to hold in his mind, keep in there safely through every death and revival, had begun to fade.

But not everything. Some things he could still hold on to, just like he had said he would. 

Even a thousand years from now.


End file.
